


#1

by red__letters



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red__letters/pseuds/red__letters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Gerard have a history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#1

The first girlfriend Gerard had, Amy, had short curly brown hair and big brown eyes and was an art geek. He was a senior and she was a junior, and Gerard’s mother was ecstatic. She invited Amy over for dinner, and Gerard was almost offended because it seemed to him that his mother was thanking the girl for dating him. But she was invited so she came over, and they ate dinner, and afterwards they went downstairs to his bedroom and watched Night of the Living Dead.

Their clammy palms were pressed together, as was to be expected; their fingers loosely laced. And about halfway through the movie, Amy laid her head on his shoulder. And he could smell her shampoo and perfume; sweet like a candy shop, like jelly beans. Achy and smothering. It made his eyes and nose hurt, and his palm was too hot against hers, so he made some excuse to get her out. And she went, with a frown on her face.

And in his panic, he calls Ray. They are sort of almost best friends, Gerard thinks, so he doesn’t feel bad calling him so late on a night when most teenagers are partying. Ray and he are not most teenagers though, and Ray picks up the phone on the second ring, and agrees to go over to Gerard’s house.

When Gerard answers the door, Ray’s t-shirt does a fair impersonation of a flash bulb, momentarily blinding him. It is fresh, just-bleached white, and against his tan, it is even more striking. Gerard stares at it, mouth open, and it makes him glance at the pale underside of his arm, to compare. He steps aside to let Ray in and they go downstairs where it still smells like candy; like bubblegum and coconut jellybeans, exactly like it, Gerard thinks to himself as he watches Ray’s shirt move in the dankness of his room. The overhead lightbulb had burnt out days ago, so the only light is coming from a desk lamp, making everything more of an idea than an actual material thing. Ray asks him what he was so upset about, and Gerard remembers. He remembers the dinner and her clammy palm and the way her perfume made him sick to his stomach. He thinks he can still smell it, but surely it should’ve been gone by this time.

Ray presses play on Gerard’s stereo and grins widely as Iron Maiden fills the room, and he nods along while he listens. And Gerard, he’s more mumbling to himself than anything, staring at the way Ray’s shirt contrasts against his stomach when he stretches. And it feels like something snaps in his chest, and he is yelling, asking Ray why it has to be the way it does. He gestures to encompass himself, Ray, the room, maybe the entire universe. And Ray, he just walks over to Gerard and wraps one arm around his waist, flinging the other over his shoulders. Gerard is aware of the crisp smell of the bleach replacing the sweet scent she had left behind, and that they are swaying, arms around eachother. Like a slowdance. And Gerard looks down at the white of his arm blending into the white of Ray’s shirt and is wholly amazed that they are dancing. Or as close to dancing as either of them has been thus far. And they are both smiling, though neither of them can see it.


End file.
